


Nest Inspection

by Kitsoa



Category: BIRDMEN - 田辺イエロウ | Tanabe Yellow
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), BirdmenWeek2018, Day 1 Nest, Gen, Nestmates AU, Outsider Perspective, set in a future where nothing gets epic the kids are just trying to Live and failing really hard, them kids being creepy, you can't tell but this crew is poly af
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-26
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-08-29 15:29:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16746628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitsoa/pseuds/Kitsoa
Summary: Landlady Hinako Ito pays her young tenants a visit for an annual flat inspection. [Nestmates AU] [BirdmenWeek 2018]





	Nest Inspection

**Author's Note:**

> Like my earlier fic Heart Song, this is a part of the Nestmates AU. It's basically a soft slice of life alternate take on the fate of the bird club, set several years in the future while they are young adults. Eden, the Eves, other Seraphim, and so on are not an apparent problem in this setting. We just kind of ignore them... It centers around these inhuman kids trying to coexist with humans society all while their instincts, biology, and desires vehemently conflict. Big Takeaway. Eishi found his chill.

“I’ll be honest I didn’t think you’d be home Karasuma-san.”

The young man appeared sleep deprived, gravity pulling at his sharp eyes as they blinked in response to the portly woman on his standard-issue welcome mat. His scowl was a permanent feature that implied more boredom than distaste and had he been a taller fellow she might have been a bit more defensive. 

“You got my notice?” She continued. She made a show of surveying the door the young tenant was currently holding half open. She locked onto a piece of parchment tapped above the doorknob. 

She gave it a quick pull and presented it before Karasuma, a little too close to his face for courtesy. “There’s a scheduled flat inspection.”

The sentence hung awkwardly in the air. Hinako Ito, the landlady, struggled to maintain the pleasant twinkle in her eye and ducet tone of voice as she waited for the recognition and welcome from one of her newer tenants. High strung tension manifested along her stubby, frog-like neck while only silence followed. Ito resisted the squeeze of discomfort as she stomped the fires of creeping irritation down.

“Oh.”

The embers bit at her feet. How had not one of the three roommates failed to see the notice she posted 2 days prior?

“I-Is now a good time?” She pressed, miffed that she hadn’t so much as been invited in. It didn’t exactly matter if it was a good time. She was legally welcome to the inspection by virtue of her notice. 

Karasuma blinked again. Ito had honestly made the effort to come by when she thought all three of the tenants in this 4th-floor apartment complex were absent, or at least when the more pleasant Sagisawa was around to provide actual human conversation. Instead, she was faced with the worst scenario. Karasuma may have been a young man, clearly in his early twenties, but was about as lively as an elder in his twilight years-- and perhaps as attentive. She learned early on that trying to converse with him was comparable to dining with a brick wall. But this wall stared back at you and was bored with what it saw. It was frustrating to say the least, absolutely eerie at best.

“May I…?” She relented nudging her head toward him expectedly in an effort to request access. Her projected social cue was blaring, even so, Karasuma made no overt notice of it.

“Come in.” His voice was flat and he stepped back, taking the door with him to reveal the entryway.

Ito stepped over the threshold while surveying the entrance with a shameless sense of authority, her analytic eye eagerly looking for potential expenses while mentally reviewing the stipulations on the contract this ensemble signed several months ago. Almost immediately the residence classified in the red. An unkempt apartment was nothing new, even as Ito prided herself on cleanliness and order, but the sight of laundry spilling into the landing and draped on the table and chairs across the hall was a higher level of disregard.

“Karasuma-san, I must admit I took you for a tidier person.”

She tested the waters with her clout. It was true though, despite the reclusive behavior she witnessed his plain complexion and the neat way his thin hair lay on his head suggested a more clutterless, minimalism to his lifestyle. Beside the clothes and what appeared to be a pile of spilling mail on the side table, it wasn’t like there was a wealth of actual trash lying around. She tried to hide an inspecting sniff of the air. There was a distinctive aroma in the home, something she noticed on all the tenants to the point that she made mental notes to investigate the cologne in their medicine cabinet. It wasn’t unpleasant by any means, but could barely be recognized as a standard smell.

The landlady tore away from the horizon to view the genkan that was more cramped than she had anticipated. At the base of the ledge was strewn several pairs of shoes creeping toward the open door. Karasuma unknowingly knocked a particularly balanced pair into a tumble with his heel as he closed the door behind his landlady.

Ito counted the number of pairs in a jolt of instinctual shrewdness.

Five. There were five pairs of shoes in the genkan.  The thought gripped her tight and lit her eyes wide in hyper-awareness. This could be serious.

“Are dear Sagisawa-kun and Kamoda-san off work today as well?” She asked with a warbling laugh to cover her sudden bout of tension.

Karasuma looked at the shoes he just kicked over blankly, perhaps realizing her deduction. Even so, he didn’t seem to care. With a tone as flat and thin as the hair on his head, he said. “No, they’re out.”

Ito gave a befuddled double blink that accompanied an unintentional gurgle of surprise. He didn’t even try to lie. She could choose to question him now at risk of coming off too strong for better evidence to surface or push forward. What gall. The woman bristled with a swell of ferocious vindictiveness.   She may bemoan the torture of this awkward tenant, but maybe she could bust them for a lease misdemeanor. Ito wore the resolve like a badge.

“I’ll show you to the kitchen.”

“Ah… yes yes, let’s continue.”

Despite not having the prime location by the jobs and schools, the apartment complex sported a slightly larger area than its city contemporaries, going as far as to have two bedrooms. The 4th-floor balcony appeared to be the draw for Karasuma’s trio and while it was a little cramped, Ito kept the rent competitive. There were even appliances in the lease… and some in clear neglect by the appearance of the kitchen. The sink was filled with dishes while the drying rack had some organized effort to display the plastic kitchenware. She should’ve expected this from an apartment of young men, but Sagisawa inspired some sense of propriety.

“The appliances working out for you?” She asked conversationally, squaring up to the stove to examine the cosmetic features. No major scratches or cooking stains really. Just crumbs from abandoned dishes.

“They’re fine.”

Tentatively she lifted a dirty plate/cup combo off one of the burners and scattered her gaze for a better resting place. Karasuma did nothing to accommodate her and she settled to stacking more into the nearby sink after an uncomfortable clattering tumble. The stove clicked on without trouble. She checked the inside of the small oven. Completely clean. 

“Do you cook much?” She asked with a force of levity. The appliances looked as good as they did when they moved in.

“No.”

“How about that Kamoda? He made onigiri when you all moved in I assumed he’d be the backbone of your meals.” She had some genuine curiosity in words that otherwise were a ploy to pull some humanity out of her sole company. She reminisced correctly. The currently absent bald tenant presented a plate of rice balls at their initial meetings when they were signing the contract to the apartment. Kamoda had a wealth of energy compared to Karasuma and at least made the effort to maintain relations. Ito turned to the refrigerator as she spoke, opening to a blindingly bare collection of shelves with a sole bottle of water.

“It’s expensive.”

Bring up the income and one can shut down a conversation easy. She knew how much they made. It was discussed in the contract phase of the lease. Eishi and Kamoda both worked as mechanics at this pitiful shack near Yatomori. An unsuspecting occupation for what amounted to a temple boy and a boy of substantial intelligence (she had an instinct for those approximations). Sagisawa was their saving grace. Despite being roped around by his university studies (and the expenses of the pursuit), the light-haired companion to the mechanics was of good breeding. No amount of estrangement from his father (if the tabloids were correct) could remove the thin lining on his pockets. Now after some time, Ito assumed she was discovering the limits of that privilege. 

“It’s actually more economical to purchase your meals, you know.” He didn’t respond to her kindness.

They moved onto the living space at the far end of the complex. The room, which Ito was more used to seeing fitted with some kind of tv was bare save for a single dark blue couch smack in the middle, facing an empty tv table. There was a notable increase in light as the double doors to the balcony poured the harsh illumination of the day. More clothes lay strewn by the sliding doors, a particularly large pile growing along the wall like some kind of makeshift laundry hamper without the basket. At a second glance, she realized that a lot of the clothes were in terrible shape, ripped and frayed with shreds of fabric peppering the floor.

Ito stopped at that realization, unable to cover the small grunt from her throat. She shook it off. Perhaps one of them had a hobby involving fabric scraps. That wasn’t against the rules. 

And then she got a better look at the couch.

“Karasuma-san!” She exclaimed, unable to nullify her initial reaction to such incriminating evidence. He lifted his head in response and followed her gaze.

“A-Are those from an _animal_?” Ito sputtered in complete shock of the vagrant violation. The couch, big enough for a cramped nap or the rigid seating of three individuals was covered in gashes and puncture holes mainly along the back of the seat and armrest. The stuffing casually popped from the damage in suspiciously parallel lines with large margins that seemed unbelievable.

Pets were strictly forbidden. Not even a fee could forgive their unlawful presence. Ito’s mouth was gaping and she sternly bore into the silent tenant by the kitchen entrance. Karasuma didn’t seem bothered by the accusation. She couldn’t read him at all and that compounded into a flood of frustration. Red hot creeping along her thick neck.

“No.”

She almost exploded. “How do you explain those… those…  scratches?” Her voice rose in pitch, bringing out that warble that revealed her age more than she liked. The thickness of this man was beyond her emotional comprehension.

Karasuma actually made a notable shift. His jaw slackened and he slowly panned the room like he and his two other roommates didn’t live there and cause the mess before them. “We made them.”

They did it.

“Really?” Ito almost balked at the cover-up but the thought colored the situation in a strange light. She didn’t know what to think and her response came in a flat tone of disbelief.

Karasuma glided over to the couch in a silent stride, his landlady’s high strung glare upon him. He squared up to the far corner and placed his hands upon the lines of one of the gashes located in the back of the furniture.

The line’s matchup with the human hand almost perfectly.

Ito grunted in distaste once more. That wasn’t definite proof in the slightest, it simply brought more questions to the table.

“Why in the world would _you_ deface a couch?” And how? The slices were clean. Ito felt her mind spin.

“It’s my couch.”

She choked on her retort. His logic was sound if not unorthodox. Her head throbbed with an ever-present pressure. Her mouth hung with the breathless desire to retort.

“V-Very well.” She managed. “Shall we go to the bedrooms?”

Karasuma actually visibly hesitated before his affirmation. He led her to the first bedroom adjacent to the sitting area, pushing aside the ajar door and kicking a pair of pants out of the walkway as he stepped through the threshold. Ito was still reeling with anger that she almost missed the dumbfounding novelty of Karasuma choosing to speak first.

“There was an accident when moving a dresser.” He was staring emotionless at the wall when she followed him in. The landlady would have remarked ‘what furniture’ if the sheer emptiness of the room was its only defining feature. No. Nothing stole her attention as furiously as the massive hole in the drywall.

She couldn’t hold back her horrified gasp. 

“What happened!?” Her voice screeched. All she could see was the flaking dent in the wall, long in length with a 7 cm width, cracking along the edges from a substantial impact. Figures and estimates were floating along her vision.

“...There was an accident when moving a dresser.”

Ito snapped her gaze to Karasuma. Unbridled fury no longer simmering underneath her skin, if the redness of her face was any indication. She was done with the pleasantries.

 _“Did you throw it?!”_ She pointed accusingly to the damage which rested above average human height.  

“No.” 

“And when were you planning on telling me?”

“It didn’t seem important.”

“Important?! I own this property that you lease Karasuma-san! It’s extremely affordable because I put my trust in my tenants to avoid any **_expensive damages_ **!” The landlady clenched her fist, drawing closer to the hole in the wall in a frustrated shuffle. Her foot caught on a strewn T-shirt on the ground that she whipped her attention to. After a couple overly aggressive kicks of her foot, the laundry was free and a patch of floor was in good view. Ito froze.

“Are those scratches?” Her voice was low. The lines on the blond hardwood were suddenly apparent, even in the dim natural light of the room. She squared the damage below her.

“Those are scratches.” It was like she couldn’t believe herself. She shoved aside more clothes to reveal an occasional shallow scrape on the floor. Suddenly inspired, Ito tore out of the room and back into the living space, her eyes trained to the ground. The damage was everywhere, concentrated by the balcony door… with a glaring number of deep gashes by that blasted excuse for a couch.

“This is a finable offense Karasuma-san.” She said slowly, raising her chin to meet an observant. It seemed she had crossed the threshold of fury. “An _immensely_ finable offense… And grounds for suspicion for harboring an animal… and dare I say expulsion.”

“We don’t have pets.”

Ito barked. “Well, it’s not a dog I’ll give you that.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Some of that classical style ire returned from the well of sardonic laughter. “You do understand that I will begin filing for your removal within the day and you will pay every cent regardless of if you see this apartment complex again.”

“That’s fine. 

Ito’s fists clenched. “I better see what more violations you’ve committed before I file the report.” She took a sharp turn to the second bedroom, swinging open the only closed door in the apartment with a violent rush of hostile investigation. It didn’t take long for her to yet again freeze as she once again stepped on an article of clothing of particular interest.

“Karasuma-san!” She called out. There was no indication of motion as he appeared in the doorway to the second room 

“What…” Her voice rose in pitch. “Is…” She was trembling with anger. “ _This_?”

Slowly, Ito presented a woman’s bra dangling in the iron grip of her stubby fingers, red from a lack of circulation.

Whatever personal business her tenants were up to was their own, but it was the room’s abundance of brightly colored female clothing and sickeningly sweet stuffed animal lion in the corner of the room that presented all the evidence she needed of another, _female_ resident. Her blood boiled at the audacity. She had a cap on the number of people and there was to be in each flat and absolutely no cohabitation with unmarried couples.

“Oop! That’s mine~”

And from behind the stoic Karasuma jumped a young woman, around his age with bouncing blue hair and twinkling eyes. She immediately took the undergarment from Ito’s shocked silly hands and gave a giggle.

“How embarrassing! Sorry, my room is so messy.”

“Your room?” Ito muttered, just noticing the girl’s strange attire. Covered head to toe in black and wrapped in a bulky black poncho. The hand that dangled the garment was covered black as well with definitely pointed tips. If it wasn’t for the fact that the surprise visitor effectively pushed her ghost out of her body, Ito would have had enough surprise to react to the faint smirk on Karasuma’s mouth. 

“Sure thing Miss Landlady. I don’t think we’ve met! The name is Umino Tsubame. The new face sitting on the couch behind me is Takayama. We’ve been illegally harbored in your complex for the past 6 months. Nice to meet you!” She held her hand out for an amicable shake.

Ito just stared at it. It was skin tight and had a tar smooth texture. Did she say there was another new face? Ito didn’t want to look behind her to confirm.  A beat of silence followed as the strange girl (fellow tenant??) waited for her to take her hand.

Umino’s offered hand snapped back into a boisterous motion of dejection. “Or not.~” She said retrieving her gesture with a disappointed pout. “I don’t really need consent I guess...”

She turned to Karasuma, like a loyal pup requesting permission. He gave a short nod and suddenly the dumbfounded Ito was staring into the girl's pair of brilliant red eyes, practically glowing with intensity. 

Karasuma lifted a hand toward Umino.

_‘Don’t go overboard now. I can only mediate you so much on my own.’_

The girl’s voice rang directly into the landlady’s head, freezing every motion of thought in the foreign sensation. Her mouth didn’t move while her bell-like voice taunted Karasuma in a cautious tone that was both light-hearted and serious. Umino took his offer and he wove his fingers between hers with a level gaze.

_“The other three are being impossibly lazy. Do they want a repeat of that poor sap at the Register’s Office?”_

She had never heard those tones before from Karasuma. Even in the ominous nature of what he said and the layer of criticism, there was a lively affection in this strange mental voice. But comfort was far from the human. She couldn’t breathe as a silence passed between them.

“W-what’s going on?”

 _‘Eh, it’s an understandable reaction.”_ Karasuma’s voice cropped up again as if continuing a correspondence she couldn’t hear. _“I mean, that hole in the wall was your fault Kamoda, no need to be cruel. Get over here. You too Sagisawa.”_

“Karasuma-san… I-I demand an explanation....” Ito stuttered with eyes wide as the familiar bald head of Kamoda joined Karasuma at the doorway. There was a grin on his face as he waved a hand covered in the same black that the girl was covered in. 

“Hello, Ito-san!” Kamoda said aloud. “Sorry in advance!” He placed a hand on Karasuma’s shoulder.

“No need to scare her.” That was Sagisawa’s (spoken) voice. Kamoda obscured the kinder tenant from view. 

“Who-- _who are you people?!”_ Ito cried.

 Everyone looked to Karasuma as a sharp jolt of electricity shot through her.

**_‘We’re just your everyday contract abiding tenants.’_ **

**Author's Note:**

> There's a lot of character interpretations that I've expanded upon in different ways but the main thing to note is that they are being viewed from an outsider point of view. If Eishi reminded you of Takayama in this fic than that is intentional. They are emotionally very detached from humanity and the consequences of society to the point of tenants. Eishi is the most advanced so he's probably the worst.
> 
> Umm you can kind of take by context clues the kind of lifestyle they live. On the go, always flying, only needing clothes when they are out in public and caring very little about appearances (so cleaning maintenance is very minimal). They probably strip anywhere and leave the tatters from accidental clothes rips. Scuffs on the floor are from their claws, Kamoda made the hole in the wall from stretching out his wings too fast, and I'll leave the scratched up sofa to ya'lls imagination...


End file.
